Like Father, Like Son
by cadeleus
Summary: (Will contain content from both the musical AND the movie) Veronica Sawyer, aged seventeen, finds out she is pregnant with JD's child, and to her, the only thing more terrifying than being a teenage mother is the possibility of your child being a serial killer like its father.


**_September 23rd, 1988._**

 ** _Dear diary,_**

 ** _I can righteously tell you that the very definition of_ Hell _is waking up to the flu with your head pulsing and everything you ate the night before is now a 'Dinner-Bile-Stomach Acid' smoothie, spilled all over you._**

 _ **I have no reason to lie when I say that for a second, I rattled my brain, wondering if maybe I'd gotten hungover at another stupid Remington party and didn't remember. The next second, I thought, perhaps, I was just overly stressed out. And who can blame me? Then I thought I was dying, like God was avenging me for what I did to Heather, Kurt, and Ram. Maybe my subconscious is telling me that somebody slipped a bit of cleaner in my drink and I'll go down with Heather to Unintentional Drano-Chugging Hell. Or maybe I didn't go to a party and I'm dying because I'm stressed out.**_

 _ **Can stress kill you?**_

 _ **These days, it doesn't sound like a very bad option.**_

 _ **Oh, what the hell, of course I'm not dying. I think the flu has infected my brain.**_

 _ **Whatever.**_

 _ **Yours truly,**_

 _ **Veronica Sawyer.**_

o`o`o`o`o`o`o`o`o

September 25th, 1988.

Above her, the pounding of feet against the gym floor drowned out the sound of water in the boiler room.

It was to her advantage that the commotion blocked out her own breathing and footsteps.

However, it was a _disadvantage_ she couldn't hear JD shuffling around down there.

She'd managed not to land too hard on her front. But everything hurt like a _bitch,_ her face cladding a sick bruise.

 ** _September 24th, 1989_**

 ** _As if things couldn't get worse, as if my home life, my "love" life, my social life, my life in general weren't in absolute shambles, I come to find out that that dumb asshole has impregnated me._**

Weakly, she set herself to a wall and took a deep breath. Beside her, a fire extinguisher hung on the wall. No case held it hostage, and she took the opportunity to brandish it and hold it close as she ventured through the stuffy room.

Then, something moved. It walked, and it was stealthy. She could see the tears on the back of the trench coat.

 ** _A part of me wants to get rid of it. I don't need a baby, especially when it's father is a sick psychopath._**

Eyes widened, she approached him, quiet as a tiger, extinguisher equipped...

and _Wham!_

The squeaking of her shoes and the pounce he peripherally caught gave her away, and he managed to swiftly spin enough to avoid being smashed in the back of the skull.

Unfortunately, it hadn't killed him. It didn't even seem to have given him a concussion or anything.

She frantically crawls to retrieve the gun, but now he's on top of her.

 ** _But another part of me wants to do the right thing and keep it. Abortion is murder, I think, and that's the complete opposite of what I want to do._**

She protested, grunting in between attempts to push off his weight.

 ** _The exact thing JD is._**

He yanks her off the ground, to the wall by her cardigan, and pressed his lips to hers, and they were relentless, like they were trying to suck the anger and strife out of her.

 _He wanted her. He fucking loved her, he loved every crease and crevice, he loved how much some of the bullshit she said made him want to kill her. He loved her scent, he loved her yelling, he loved when she screamed at him for his lack of empathy for his actions. She was smart. But she was so beautifully stupid for not realizing he'd be a legend. His legacy, destroying the jocks and whores to make the world a tolerable place for tolerable people, would go go down in history._

In the midst of muffled hollering and grunts, she lands a knee to his groin. He is taken aback, groaning and clutching his chest in exhaustion.

 ** _Jesus, how do I tell him?_**

She bolts over the pick the gun up off the floor. With her back turned, JD darts toward a large stack of empty paint cans. Veronica gasps at the commotive clatter of falling tins.

The crashing comes to a halt. As the chanting upstairs proceeds mindlessly, oblivious to what's going on just under the floor, Veronica raises the pistol and takes slow, cautious steps forward. Two clicks from a seemingly empty, small area behind the boilers alarm her, and she threatens them at gunpoint.

Then.

Behind a boiler behind her, she hears the click once again. She turns to it, to see the glowing of red buttons and a timer. She approached it, and there they are, face to face. Or rather, face to gun barrel.

He's wielding a pocket knife, up in plain sight for her to see.

"You think just because you started this thing you can _end_ it?" He waves the knife tauntingly, not bothering to conceal the aggression in his voice.

And she doesn't bother to either. "I'll kill you, I'll _fucking_ kill you, I swear to God."

 _Go, go, go, go, go, woooooo, yeah, yeah!_

"How do I turn off the goddamn bomb, asshole?"

" _Fuck you!"_

One moment, he had his middle finger, directed to her with pure rage. Then, _Bam!,_ it was gone, a gushing stump in its place. He gapes at it. " _Aaaaagh, shit!"_

He grips his hand, as if the only thing he could _possibly_ grieve over is his middle finger.

"It's _all over,_ JD, help me stop it."

The clock ticks, _0:42, 0:41, 0:40,_ and he ignores her demands and presses a dirty towel to his mutilated hand. "You wanna clean the slate as much as I do..." His breath was unsteady. "... _right?"_

Veronica looks at him in disbelief.

"So maybe I _am_ killin' everyone in the school... because nobody _loves_ me!"

He runs a hand through his hair. "Let's face it, alright? The only place different social types can _genuinely_ get along with eachother is _in heaven."_

 _Even teachers are yelling, cheering, and whistling along with the ruffling of cheerleaders' pom-poms._

She's having none of his edgy, tragic past bullshit. With grit teeth, she fumes in her demands. "Which button do I press to turn it off?!"

"Try the red one, _alright?"_

Much to her exasperation, they're all red, and she suddenly wonders if he's so stubborn, he'll stall long enough to kill them.

" _Seriously..._ people are going to look at the ashes of Westerburg and say... 'Now there is a school that self-destructed... not because society didn't _care..._ but because that school _was society._ ' 'S pretty deep, eh?"

Veronica's anger was boiling more than the water in the pipes in this room. If looks could kill, JD would indeed be dead, right there. " _Which red button?!"_

"... _press the middle one... to turn it off... if that's what you really want_."

She lowered the gun slightly and sneered. "You know what I want, _babe?"_

He stands up and yells, "What?!"

She fires another gunshot at him, and he grips two hanging chain to maintain his balance.

" _Cool guys like you out of my life."_

JD is struggling to stand now.

With relief, she wipes the sweat from her forehead, shuts off the bomb, and exits the room.

It's a relief to see the students of Westerburg not splattered all over four charred walls.

Holding her stomach, she exits the school building. Her face is bruised, and blood peeks at the corner of her mouth.

 _ **How do I tell him anyway?**_

"Color me impressed."

She turns around. That _battered fucking murderer_ is limping towards her and cradling his hand. "You, uh, really fucked me up pretty bad."

In front of her, he grins at her petrified face. "You've got power... power I didn't think you really had."

His grin stays plastered on his face as he peels open his coat and reveals the bomb, duct taped tightly to his chest.

"The slate is clean." It beeps with the press of the button by his blood-cloaked finger. _0:45._

He descends down the stairs and takes his last step onto a plot of grass.

"Pretend I did blow up the school... All the schools. Now that you're dead, what are you gonna do with your life?"

She chuckled lightly and reached into her breast pocket. "Hey, _babe_ , guess what?"

 ** _I could barely even handle it, I broke down and covered my mouth to hold back my screams..._**

The clock ticked, closer to JD becoming a forgotten pile of smithereens soaked in his cold blood, and closer to Veronica having a massive supply of flame to light her cigarette.

 _0:11, 0:10, 0:09._

 _"Yes, darling?"_ He replied with a grin.

 _0:08, 0:07, 0:06._

With her fingers interlocked in front of her and a small, patient smile, she waited for each second counted to beep twice.

"I'm pregnant."

 _0:05, 0:04._

He could feel himself departing, and with a smirk he'd depart with, he puffed his chest out and spread his arms out wider.

Then he gave her his final words.

" _I know."_

 _ **...and I threw that pregnancy stick to the wall. But from the floor, that fucker stared at me.**_

And as soon as his lips touched, that was it.

 _PPPPCCCCKKKKHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!_

The spirited cries and cheering in the gymnasium became horrified gasps and screams.

Veronica was grey now, covered in the ashes of her baby's father.

With two fingers, she pulled the cigarette from her lips and blew the nicotine-filled smoke into the air.

She smiled and scurried contently into the school building, where everyone had filed out of the gym in alarm. Some glanced at her in confusion, some were indifferent.

But right now, it didn't matter.

Because there was a _new_ sheriff in town.

 ** _It was even more intimidating than looking into JD's eyes. And I never want to see his eyes- OR that pregnancy test- again._**


End file.
